


Happy Endings

by doctorxdonna (badxwolfxrising)



Series: Earth Girls Are So Not Easy [17]
Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Fluff and Smut, Friends to Lovers, Pansexual Character, Sapiosexual, Shopping, Spa Treatments
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-27
Updated: 2015-06-27
Packaged: 2018-04-06 10:35:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,628
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4218438
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/badxwolfxrising/pseuds/doctorxdonna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Doctor treats himself and Donna to a day of shopping and relaxing, and finds out that the term 'happy ending' has more than one meaning on planet Earth.  A stand alone story in the Earth Girls Are So Not Easy series.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Happy Endings

Donna was in heaven. Well, not heaven, but close enough. Who would’ve thought of Arkansas as a good place to get away from it all?

It had taken some wheedling and cajoling on her part, but she had finally convinced the Doctor to indulge in a spa day. After the nightmare of Midnight (and that was an understatement), he’d understandably been wary of leisure palaces and luxury planets. She had been persistent, though, insisting that both of them could use a break, one that wouldn’t be interrupted by unknown alien entities, or worse, a gaggle of frightened and ignorant humans who would kill to keep themselves safe. After two weeks of pestering, he had finally given in, though he insisted on doing some research before he actually took them anywhere.

“So where are we going, Spaceman?” she’d asked that morning, plunking down on the jumpseat with her coffee and toast.

“Hot Springs, Arkansas!” the Doctor had answered cheerfully, spinning around the console, pressing buttons and pulling levers.

“Arkansas?” she’d said doubtfully. “Like dueling banjos and kissin’ cousins Arkansas, America?”

“Now be fair, Donna, those are just stereotypes. Some perfectly lovely people are from Arkansas,” the Doctor had replied, pushing the last few buttons needed to initiate the dematerialization sequence. “It’s a beautiful place, really. They call it the Natural State because there’s so many mountains and forests and lakes. There are loads of state parks-in fact, the whole city of Hot Springs is considered a state park. The town is built over top of naturally occurring hot springs.”

“What’s so special about Hot Springs?” she’d asked.

“I’m glad you asked,” the Doctor had answered with a cat-like grin. “I was reading up on it last night, and the history is fascinating. The Native Americans used to refer to it as the Valley of the Vapors, and it was considered a neutral space where all tribes could come together and enjoy the healing powers of the hot springs.”

“I can see that,” she’d nodded. “A good soak always makes me feel peaceful.”

The Doctor had plowed on like a kid giving a book report. “The town has always been a neutral space. Back during the Prohibition era, it was a popular place for mobsters to go to relax, because it was considered a peace zone, neutral territory and all that. It was understood that grievances were to be put to the side there. The locals built bathhouses over the springs, and people came from all over to bathe in the waters. The water has a naturally high mineral content, and people believed it had curative and restorative properties. In fact, Al Capone used to visit the bathhouses regularly as treatment for syphilis. Him, Frank Costello, Lucky Luciano, they were all regulars in Hot Springs. It used to be a rather corrupt place-illegal gambling, prostitution, bootlegging, that sort of stuff. There’s even a gangster museum there! I was thinking, maybe before we go to the bathhouse, we could go to the museum, maybe do a little shopping, get some lunch. What do you think?”

“You’re actually volunteering to take me shopping?” she’d asked, incredulous.

“Well, yeah. This is a Donna day, and I know you love shopping. Supposedly, there’s all kinds of neat little shops, local art galleries, handmade soap, artisan popcorn, that sort of stuff,” he’d said casually.

“Ah, I get it. You placate me with offers of shopping so I won’t nag you for turning spa day into an educational trip,” she’d laughed. “Artisan popcorn?”

“Darn you woman, you saw through my cunning ruse,” he’d replied, perfectly deadpan. “And yeah, there’s an artisan popcorn place on Central Avenue. Funnily enough, it’s called Ginger’s, I believe.”

“I suppose going to the museum is a fair exchange if you’re actually going to take me shopping,” she’d acquiesced.

“Brilliant,” he’d said, grinning back at her.

They’d gone to the gangster museum first, at Donna’s insistence that they ‘get the boring stuff out of the way early’. The Doctor had flashed his psychic paper and they’d gotten in for free. Surprisingly though, she had enjoyed the museum, which had been packed full of photos, videos, articles and other memorabilia relating not just to gangsters, but the town’s sordid past. She’d ribbed the Doctor mercilessly about his obvious boycrush on the tour guide, who’d been decked out in a black and white pinstriped suit and fedora with shiny black wingtips. At the end of the tour, another museum goer had snapped a picture of her and the Doctor, posing with an acrylic statue of Al Capone and a fake machine gun.

In the gift shop, Donna had plucked a brown bowler hat off a shelf and plunked it onto the Doctor’s head before he could levy a protest. He’d whined about her flattening his hair before catching sight of himself in the mirror.

“Hmmm,” he’d said appraisingly, stroking his chin. “Actually, that’s not bad. I look quite dapper.”

“You look ready to go on a crime spree,” she’d chuckled.

“I guess that makes you the Bonnie to my Clyde,” he’d replied, paying for the hat and a deck of gangster emblazoned playing cards with a credit card he produced from one of his many voluminous pockets. She hadn’t bothered asking him where he’d gotten it from, wanting to avoid the long winded story that would inevitably follow.

The first shop they had stopped in after leaving the museum had been the gourmet popcorn place, which really was called Ginger’s. They’d sampled a dozen different flavors, from caramel apple to three cheese, and the Doctor had bought a half gallon bag of each, much to the shop owner’s delight.

“That’s going to go stale before you can eat all of it,” she’d chided as they’d stood outside the shop, the Doctor surreptitiously cramming bags of popcorn into his pockets.

“Nah,” he’d scoffed. “Food never goes stale on the TARDIS.”

The Doctor had actually seemed to enjoy the browsing-the shops collected along Central Avenue, the main drag, were varied and eclectic. They’d stopped in several art galleries, browsed souvenir shops packed with racks of postcards and tshirts, looked through bins of old vinyl records in a vintage thrift shop, and ate red velvet fairy cakes at a bakery cleverly named Fat Bottomed Girls. At the soapery next door to the bakery, Donna and the Doctor had both gone a little hog wild over the handmade soaps and lotions. They’d left with so much stuff, the Doctor hadn’t even bothered trying to fit it into his pockets.

“You’re such a metrosexual,” she’d teased him on the way back to the TARDIS to deposit their bags.

He’d sniffed, and adjusted his tie. “There’s nothing wrong with wanting to look and smell nice.”

“Do you even shower?” she’d asked.

“Of course I do, what do you think I am, some sort of heathen?” he’d bristled. ‘I didn’t buy soap to look at it.”

“It’s just I’ve never actually seen you with wet hair, not counting the times we’ve gotten stuck in the rain,” she’d countered.

“That’s because I blow dry my hair,” he’d answered.

“Yeah, that admission isn’t exactly helping solidify the case for you not being a metrosexual,” she’d chaffed.

They’d decided to go to lunch, but the Doctor had gotten sidetracked by a used bookstore on one of the side streets. Donna had left him to his browsing in favor of wandering back onto Central Avenue. She’d passed people crowded around a fill station with empty plastic jugs, laughing and chatting amongst themselves. The fill stations, which were connected directly to the hot springs, were scattered all over town, according to the Doctor. Anyone with an empty vessel could visit the fill station and get their fill of hot springs water for free. Outside the visitor’s center, a sign informed passers by that Hot Springs had once been home to President William Jefferson Clinton, whose life story she was now rather familiar with, thanks to the Doctor’s endless running commentary on the history of the town. She’d ducked into a heritage shop with a giant Celtic banner in the window, where the woman behind the counter had helped her look up the roots of her surname and her family’s coat of arms. She’d ended up buying a framed copy of the coat of arms, figuring it would make a nice gift for her mother to hang up in the house. When she’d left the shop, the Doctor had been waiting outside.

“What’d you buy?” he’d asked, peering nosily into her bag.

“What’d you buy?” she’d replied, elbowing him.

“Nothing, actually. It was a cute little shop, yeah, but they didn’t have any books that I don’t already own,” he’d answered.

She’d raised her eyebrows at him. She’d spent a few moments browsing the bookstore before leaving him to his own devices, so she’d seen some of the titles. “You have Nancy Drew in the library?”

“Hardy Boys, too,” he’d said with a grin.

They’d ended up eating lunch at a bar called Maxine’s, named after the town’s most infamous madame, who had been featured in some of the videos at the gangster museum. Supposedly, the bar had once been the home of her brothel, although the accuracy of that bit of information was somewhat debatable. It had definitely been located on Central Avenue, though the specific building hadn’t been mentioned in the tour. They’d sat at the bar, ordered a round of beer and spent nearly twenty minutes pouring over the menu, which wasn’t particularly long, but unique in that every dish was named after a popular song. They’d finally settled on the Hungry Like the Wolf-a pepperoni, sausage, ham and bacon pizza.

“So, are you having a good time?” he’d asked, trying to sound casual and not really succeeding.

“Oh, I’m having a ball, and we haven’t even gotten to the spa yet. Thank you,” she’d replied, giving his arm a squeeze.

He’d beamed back at her. “It’s my pleasure, Donna. You know I love to see you smile. And it’s nice to spend a day out together and not have to run for our lives.”

“I’ll drink to that,” she’d said, clinking her glass against his.

And now, she was finally luxuriating in a private bath, a cup of ice water clutched in one hand. Her and the Doctor had parted ways at the front desk of the bathhouse/spa. He had gone straight upstairs for his hour of massage, but she had opted for the full package, which included a mini-facial, a nice long soak in a private tub, and a massage. She’d already gotten her facial, and her skin was as soft as silk when she ran her fingers over her cheeks. She sank lower into the orange blossom and mimosa scented bath water and sighed in contentment. It really had been a perfect day, and it wasn’t over yet. They were planning to go to the Bleu Monkey Grill for dinner, on the bartender from Maxine’s recommendation. It was apparently consistently voted the best restaurant in Hot Springs. Being that it was a Friday, they’d probably be crowded, but Donna had no doubt the Doctor would find a way in with his charm and the psychic paper. After that, they were going to the Ohio Club for drinks and live music. Honestly, she could hardly believe they’d been there for several hours already, and nothing terrible had happened. As jeopardy friendly as the two of them were, it seemed almost too good to be true.

A sudden and rapid knocking on the door startled her out of her thoughts, and she fumbled her cup of water over the side of the tub.

“Shit!” she muttered as it clattered against the tile. “Who’s there?”

“Donna, it’s me.”

“Oh, well it would be you,” she muttered. “What’s wrong, Time Boy?”

“Can I come in? I don’t want to shout at you through the door,” he said. His voice was thin and reedy. He was obviously distressed.

“Alright,” she relented. “But you’d better close your eyes. I only get twenty minutes in here and I’m not wasting a second of it.”

Wordlessly, the Doctor slipped into the room, and shut the door behind him. He shuffled blindly along the edge of the wall until his feet connected with the edge of the plastic chair in the corner. Carefully, he lowered himself into it and crossed his arms against his chest. His flip flopped feet tapped nervously against the tile. Even with his eyes closed, he still looked like he’d suffered a great shock.

“This had better be important,” she warned, although she still felt a nervous flutter in her stomach. This was the part where he told her that the spa was really staffed by aliens who were harvesting human organs to sell on the intergalactic black market.

“I feel guilty, because I don’t want to ruin your spa day...but I’m wondering if we should go,” he finally said.

“Oh yeah? And why is that?” she asked, cocking an eyebrow, though he couldn’t see her face.

“I…”

“You?”

“I just narrowly avoided being sexually assaulted by my masseuse!” he said, the breath whooshing out of him.

“You...wait, what?” she asked, sure she had misunderstood him.

“The masseuse! She touched me...inappropriately,” he said with a shudder, drawing the collar of his robe up around his neck.

Coming from the man who seemed to have practically no physical boundaries, not even when it came to strangers, this took her by surprise. “Inappropriate how? She squeeze your bum or something?”

He made a noise, something between a snort and a chuckle. “You think I’d risk interrupting your bath because someone copped a quick feel? No, it was a bit more than that. She grabbed my…”

“Your…?” she prompted. She knew what the obvious answer was, of course, but he was a giant space weirdo, so maybe his feet were his no-no zone?

“You know,” he said, blushing, and waving his hand vaguely downwards.

Donna gasped. “No way! She really grabbed your fucking dick?”

He winced at her coarse language. “If you must put it like that, yeah. She groped me.”

“What the hell?” Donna exclaimed.

“I know! And it just came out of the blue. We were having a perfectly lovely chat, she was rubbing my shoulders and whatnot, and then she asked me to turn over, we kept talking, she was rubbing my legs. And then she asked me if I wanted a happy ending, and I said ‘well yeah, who doesn’t?’ and then she started groping me!”

“Whoa, hold up, Spaceman!” Donna said sharply. “You told her you wanted a happy ending? No wonder she grabbed your junk, you great big outer space dunce! What the hell is wrong with you?”

“Since when does a happy ending translate to manhandling a stranger’s genitals?” he shot back.

“Uh, since always? Well, not always. But come on, they reference happy endings in pop culture all the time. How could you not know that ‘happy ending’ is code for ‘get me off please’?”

The Doctor blanched. “Is that really what it means?”

Donna rolled her eyes. For a genius, he was totally clueless sometimes. “Well that’s what it means on Earth, at least as recently as my time. What did you do when she grabbed your shit?”

“Well for starters, I nearly rolled off the bloody table! I threw on my robe and rushed out without saying anything, I was so shocked I didn’t even know what to say. No wonder that woman looked so affronted,” he groaned.

“She never should’ve asked you in the first place,” Donna said firmly. “This is a classy joint, not some porno parlor in Chinatown. She probably fancied you. I’d say we should say something at the front desk, but considering you did literally ask for it, I’m not sure we’d have a leg to stand on.”

“Only because I didn’t know any better! When she said ‘happy ending’, I figured she meant it in the ‘and they lived happily ever after’ sense!” the Doctor protested.

“Easy there. I didn’t say it was your fault, just that you asked for it. Which you did, because when she asked if you wanted a happy ending, you said yes,” Donna said.

“You have to believe me, that was very obviously _not_ what I meant,” he said.

“Well yeah, I know that you’re an asexual alien git and all, but she didn’t. How could she?”

The Doctor’s eyes snapped open. “You think I’m asexual?!”

Donna clapped her hands over her chest. “I told you to keep your eyes closed!”

“Why would you think I’m asexual?” he asked, ignoring her comment.

“Uh well you apparently traveled around for ages with Martha, who is completely gorgeous and totally fancied you, and you didn’t sleep with her. You told me when we started traveling together that you just wanted a mate. You get hit on _all the freaking time_ , by both men and women, and you’re completely oblivious to it. I just figured that meant you weren’t interested in that sort of thing,” she answered.

“I’m not oblivious to it, I’m just not interested in what they’re selling. Anyway, I told you before I’ve been a father, how else do you think that happened, if not by sex?” he questioned, raising his eyebrows.

“Well I don’t know!” she replied crossly. “You’re always prattling on about your superior Time Lord biology, I don’t know how your lot reproduced. For all I know, you’re all grown in test tubes. And what happened to you keeping your eyes closed?”

The Doctor’s mouth turned up at the corners. He raised his eyebrows at her, and then let his gaze drift down to her half-covered chest. “Well if I’m asexual, what does it matter? It’s not like the sight of a gorgeous naked ginger woman would possibly turn me on.”

Donna frowned at him. “Cut it out.”

The Doctor smiled at her. “Looks like that tub is big enough for two. So, being as I’m an asexual alien git and all, you probably wouldn’t mind if I joined you? Nah, didn’t think so,” he said, not waiting for her answer. He got up from the chair, undid the belt of his robe, and let the garment slip to the floor. 

Donna looked away _almost_ immediately, but not before catching an eyeful of the Doctor’s frankly impressive goods as he climbed into the other end of the tub. He stretched his legs out, the tips of his toes just barely brushing against hers.

“Ah, that’s more like it,” he said cheerfully. She couldn’t see his face, but she was sure that it was smug.

“I cannot believe you,” she said flatly, still refusing to look at him, arms still crossed over her chest.

“What?” he asked innocently, sliding across the tub. 

When she finally swept her gaze back to him, he was hovering inches away from her (well, more floating), his hands braced on either side of her hips, an absolutely salacious grin on his face.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” she demanded, though she sounded unsure, even to herself.

“Oh, nothing. Just proving a point,” he replied, shifting so that he was kneeling over her, the sides of his knees pressing against her own. He was practically straddling her, would be if the water weren’t there to keep him balanced and upright. He reached out and brushed the damp strands of hair off of her forehead before tucking them behind her ear. Briefly, his fingers traced the shell of her ear, and she shivered at the touch.

The Doctor, who missed nothing, smiled even wider. “Oh, did you like that? What about this?” he asked, dropping both his hands to cup her breasts. His thumbs traced lazy circles around her areolae until her nipples were so hard, they were aching. “Is this something an asexual man would do?”

“Suppose not,” she mumbled. In spite of the almost overwhelming warmth of the bath, she was covered in gooseflesh.

“What about this?” he whispered before pressing his lips to the side of her neck. He sucked gently at the place where her pulse beat hot and fast, his fingers still pinching and pulling at her nipples. “Would an asexual man do this?”

“Probably not,” she replied, biting back a moan, her hands curling into fists at her sides.

“You know,” he said, dropping his hands to the tops of her thighs. “Asexuality isn’t always a complete lack of sexuality. Sometimes it’s just a low interest in engaging in sexual activity. But low interest isn’t quite the same thing as no interest, is it? The right time, the right place, the right person...who knows what could happen?”

“So you are asexual then?” she asked.

“No, of course not. I was merely making a point. If anything, I identify as pansexual and sapiosexual,” he replied, grasping her hips.

“Huh?” she asked, her confusion temporarily distracting her from the NC-17 situation that appeared to be developing in the bath, which, for whatever reason, she wasn’t keen on stopping. So much for ‘just mates’. Maybe she shouldn’t have been drinking that 10% ABV beer at lunch, it was obviously impairing her judgment.

“In a way, you could say that I’m gender-blind, but even that is a bit of an oversimplification. Gender isn’t always binary, it isn’t always as simple as male and female. Basically, a person’s gender doesn’t factor into whether or not I’m attracted to them. Neither does their sexuality. I’m attracted to all kinds of people, of all kinds of orientations. I see the beauty in the male and female form, and whatever comes in between equally. But the most attractive thing to me is a person’s mind. Nothing is sexier to me than intelligence. A person could have a face only a mother could love, but if they had a beautiful mind, they would be beautiful to me,” he explained.

“Yeah, but it’s not like we haven’t met smart people while traveling. There was Agatha Christie, for one. And there has certainly been others,” she pointed out.

“Yeah, but like I said, I wasn’t interested in what they were selling. I was already carrying a torch for someone else,” he replied.

“Rose?” she asked softly.

The Doctor shook his head ruefully. “No. Not Rose. Not anymore, anyway.”

“Who, if not her?” she replied.

“Oh Donna, isn’t it obvious?” he asked, cupping the side of her face with his open palm. “It’s you.”

“Me?” she stammered. “But I’m not clever or pretty. I’m nothing special. I’m just a temp.”

“You’re not _just_ an anything. And you _are_ clever. You’re brilliant. Remember on Messaline, when you worked out what those numbers meant? You figured it out before anyone else, even me. And when we met Agatha, you were the one who brought up the point that the murders were like one of her plots. You are one of the most clever women I know, and you’re not just pretty, you are beautiful. Mind and body, inside and out. And here I’ve been, pining over you for months, waiting for the perfect opportunity to tell you how I really feel, because you told me you only wanted to be friends and I didn’t want to scare you off. I’ve always wanted more...but I didn’t know how to tell you. And I didn’t know if you could ever possibly feel the same way,” he said earnestly, his eyes searching her own.

Overwhelmed by his honest words, Donna looked inwards for something to say in reply, and came up empty. So instead, she grabbed the back of the Doctor’s head and kissed him square on the mouth, letting her lips and tongue convey her answer. The Doctor returned the kiss eagerly, relaxing against her and burying his hands in her hair. When they finally parted a few moments later, both of them were breathless.

“That’s the second time you’ve done that and taken me by surprise,” he said, his eyes sparkling.

“Yeah well, I have to say, that was much better than an anchovy flavored detox snog,” she laughed.

“I couldn’t agree more,” he said, leaning forward and pressing his lips against the curve of her jaw. “How long did you say you had in here?”

“Only twenty minutes. I had literally just gotten into the tub when you knocked, so it’s probably been at least five minutes already. Why?” she asked.

“About fifteen minutes. That’s enough time,” he said, extricating himself from her.

“Enough time for what?”

He waggled his eyebrows at her suggestively. “Why don’t you sit on the edge of the bath there and find out?”

Carefully, she stood up out of the water and sat on the cool tiled edge of the tub. The Doctor moved into the space she had just vacated and kneeled in front of her. Gently, he pulled her knees apart, and she felt her stomach flip flop when she saw the look in his eyes.

“May I?” he asked, skimming his hands up her thighs.

Mutely, she nodded at him.

He grinned, and grabbed her ankles, guiding her legs up so that they were resting on his shoulders. And then, he leaned forward and buried his face in the damp thatch of curls between her thighs.

“Oh!” she gasped, leaning back against the wall as he swirled his tongue around her clit. 

He slid his palms beneath her bum, lifting her just enough to grant him better access. She was thankful that the tiled ledge around the tub was so wide, although her position was still somewhat precarious. She felt coherent thought beginning to dissolve as a current of electricity shot through her body. It had been so long since she’d been intimate with a man, especially like this. Most of her lovers had been the selfish sort, only concerned with getting their own rocks off. They were happy enough to let her service them, although they rarely reciprocated, and rarely with the degree of skill that the Doctor exhibited. She shouldn’t have been surprised that his constantly running mouth was good at things besides talking. And _oh God_ , was he ever good at it. His lips and tongue worked tirelessly at their task, bringing her close to the brink several times, but always pulling back before she could tumble over the edge. He held her steady as waves of pleasure washed over her, and when she finally came, she had to bite back the cry that desperately wanted to escape her lips. When the Doctor finally pulled back, her thighs were still trembling with the aftershocks.

“You have no idea how long I’ve been wanting to do that,” he said, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand.

“Well I’ve been a fool for making you wait,” she said, sliding bonelessly back into the bath.

“Oh, I wasn’t quite finished with you yet,” he said, cocking an eyebrow.

“Oh?” 

“If you don’t have more than one orgasm, I’m not doing my job right,” he said.

“Well what about you?” she asked, gesturing to his obvious and prominent erection.

“Well, I think I have a solution that will be, shall we say, _mutually beneficial_. If you think you can stand, that is. You picking up what I’m putting down?”

“Oh, I think I’ve got you, Spaceman,” she said, standing up and turning around. She spread her legs and braced herself against the wall, waiting. She felt the Doctor behind her, and then he was thrusting up inside of her, filling her completely. Both of them groaned as he began moving within her, settling into an even, steady rhythm. His arms wrapped around her, his hands finding her breasts. His thumbs circled her nipples, teasing them into stiff peaks, rubbing until her over-sensitized flesh was singing. He dropped one hand to her waist before sliding it down to where they were joined and began stroking her already swollen clit, causing her to arch her back against him. Forgetting for a moment where she was, she moaned loudly and appreciatively.

“Shhh,” he whispered in her ear, his lips just barely brushing against her. “Wouldn’t do for them to hear us. I imagine shagging in the bath is the sort of thing that might get you kicked out of a place like this.”

“I don’t care,” she sighed.

The Doctor chuckled. “Well at the very least, we don’t want to get kicked out before I’ve finished shagging you rotten.”

“Oh, please. If they didn’t want people shagging in the private baths, they shouldn’t have made them big enough for two people,” she retorted.

“Never the less, better safe than sorry.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right.”

“Oh, am I now? That’s a new one.”

“Spare me the sarcasm, Spaceman. You were saying about shagging me rotten?”

“So I was.”

Both of them dropped off into silence, the only sounds the generic piped-in ambient soothing music, the water splashing around their legs, and flesh slapping wetly against flesh. The Doctor’s pace became increasingly frenetic, even as he fixed his lips to the side of her neck and began sucking and nibbling. His hand was still firmly anchored between her legs, his long fingers splayed and stroking deftly. Any other man probably would’ve been out of breath by then, but he had the benefit of a respiratory bypass. It was only when his pace became slightly erratic that Donna realized he was close. He had done it again, bringing her to the edge several times, only to pull her back again. She felt the heat pool low in her belly, and then finally, blessedly, spread through her. She arched her back as she came, and the Doctor bit her shoulder to muffle his own strangled cry as he spilled himself inside of her.

“Jesus Christ, look at that bloody hickey you gave me!” Donna exclaimed, glancing at her shoulders. “Are you nine hundred or nineteen?”

The Doctor nuzzled his face against her neck. “I just want people to know you belong to me.”

“Well considering everyone already assumes we’re married, I don’t think you have to worry about that,” she remarked dryly.

Just then, there were three gentle taps on the door. “Mrs. Noble? It’s been twenty minutes. If you’d like to get into your robe, I’ll have some iced water waiting for you outside.”

Donna looked over her shoulder at the Doctor, and rolled her eyes. “You hear that?” she whispered to him. “Mrs. Noble. Like I was saying, _everyone_ assumes we’re married,” and then, to the attendant she called, “I’ll just be a mo!”

“Well, I could do worse,” the Doctor said, finally pulling out and releasing his grasp on her.

She turned around and patted him fondly on the bum. “You know, I haven’t even had my massage yet. Not sure I even really want it now. I’m already feeling pretty relaxed.”

“Aww, but that was the whole point of today.”

“Really? You’re sure the whole point wasn’t you trying to charm your way into my knickers with shopping and food?”

“You weren’t wearing any knickers.”

“Oh, you know what I meant!”

“Mrs. Noble?” the attendant called again.

“Sorry, I’m just drying my hair!” she called back.

Her and the Doctor climbed out of the bath and made quick work of drying off with the stack of towels piled in the corner. Both of them wrapped back up in their robes, Donna opened the door and the two of them slipped out of the tiny bathroom.

“Oh,” the attendant said, looking uncomfortable. “Weren’t you alone when you went in there?”

“Yeah, sorry, this is my husband. He finished his massage early, so he came down to join me,” Donna lied smoothly.

“Oh, okay,” the attendant replied, her face relaxing. “I’ll pour another cup of iced water.”

“That’d be lovely, thanks,” the Doctor said with a smile as he took a seat next to Donna. The attendant poured him a cup of water from a tall pitcher covered in condensation.

“After you cool down a bit, you can head upstairs for your massage whenever you’re ready,” the attendant told Donna.

“Oh, that’s alright. I’m actually feeling a bit tired,” Donna said, faking a yawn.

The attendant’s eyebrows furrowed. “But you’ve already paid.”

“Yeah, I know, I’ll have to forfeit the money. That’s fine,” Donna said.

“If you’re sure…” the attendant said uncertainly.

“I’m sure,” Donna replied.

After a few minutes of relaxing and sipping on the cold water, Donna and the Doctor parted to go get changed in the locker room. They met back up on the front steps of the spa.

“So what do you want to do now?” the Doctor said, jamming his hands in his pockets. “It’s a bit early for dinner yet, and we’ve already gone in most of the shops. We could hike to the top of the mountain tower. There’s supposedly a great view of Hot Springs and the Ouchiata Mountains.”

“Oh, I’m still getting a massage,” Donna said archly. “But from you. Back in the TARDIS. In my bedroom. Or yours. Don’t suppose it really matters.”

The Doctor raised his eyebrows, a look of amusement playing across his face. “Is that so?”

“Well,” she said with a smile. “It’s what a good husband would do. And you are a good husband, aren’t you Mr. Noble?”

The Doctor preened. “Well, I do what I can.”

“Yes, well, what you can do is take me back to the TARDIS and shag me. Several times. We've got lost time to make up for.”

“I thought you wanted a massage?”

“Massage was a euphemism, Time Boy.”

“Ah. Like ‘happy ending’?”

“Now you’re getting the picture!”

**Author's Note:**

> When I got the idea for this story, it was just a few lines of dialogue, the bit where the Doctor tells Donna the masseuse asked if he wanted a happy ending. I knew it would have to take place in a spa, so I decided to base the story around one of my favorite places-Hot Springs, AR, which is also known as the Spa City. All the places mentioned in this story are real, although I've taken a few liberties here and there. I purposely didn't name the bathhouse because it's extremely unlikely that a scenario like this one would actually play out at either of the two bathhouses still operating in Hot Springs.


End file.
